I can smell the basil
While walking by
and the
Sunflowers are strong—
They have yet to die,
But the chamomile is
Unsprouted still
And the cilantro
Seems to struggle—ill.
There are weeds knitted
In the pots,
I removed their web—
That's what I thought.
Some threads stayed
Hidden and remained,
At least some progress
Is what I've obtained.